


Another Cliché, Baby

by FagurFiskur



Series: 30 day cheesy tropes challenge [21]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Eurovision, Fan Dean, Fluff, M/M, Pre-Slash, Singer Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-12
Updated: 2014-05-12
Packaged: 2018-01-24 12:26:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1605116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FagurFiskur/pseuds/FagurFiskur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean has never been a fan of Eurovision, but something about this year's singer for Poland makes him intensely interested. Could be the fact that he's mind-meltingly gorgeous, or that he's got the voice of an angel. Probably both.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Another Cliché, Baby

**Author's Note:**

> 30 day cheesy trope challenge: #2 - Idol/Fan
> 
>  
> 
> [The challenge](http://ghiraher.tumblr.com/post/37135733342/30-day-cheesy-tropes-challenge)
> 
>  
> 
> Oops meant to have this up before the Eurovision song contest. Oh well. 
> 
> In this, Castiel is Polish (since Novak is a Polish surname, or so says my research) and Dean is English (because I didn't feel like changing his name, but he still needed to be European). I just really wanted to write a Eurovision AU, you guys. Anyway, I don't know if Misha Collins can sing but either way, I would have much preferred him over Poland's actual entry. 
> 
> All Polish in this was translated using Google translate, so apologize if there are any errors. Title taken from Denmark's entry - Cliché Love Song
> 
> Also, as disappointed as I am that my country didn't place higher (15th place, which is still better than we've done in a while *sigh*) I couldn't be happier with the winner. Conchita Wurst, you are queen of my heart <3

Dean had never been a fan of Eurovision. He'd watch it, mostly at Sam's insistence, and as long as there was booze involved, it would usually end up being a good time. It was terrible music, yeah, but it wasn't _completely_ irredeemable. Some entries were silly enough to be entertaining and occasionally, a talented singer would sneak in between all the tone-deaf disasters.

Like the singer for this year's entry from Poland, known only by his stage name 'Castiel'. As Dean watched him march onto stage during the second semi-finals, he dismissed him as another pitchy pretty boy - all wide blue eyes and scruff and little actual talent. But then Castiel opened his mouth and begun to sing. And Dean fell in love.

The song itself was kind of bad. A vaguely rock-ish sounding ballad with clumsy lyrics about love and peace (hopefully they sounded better in Polish), but Castiel's voice just sold it. It was surprisingly gruff and deep but perfectly in tune and powerful all the same.

After the competition was over - Poland made it to the finals, no surprises there - Dean went and hunted down every scrap of information he could find on Castiel online. There wasn't much. Not even Castiel's real name. Just the fact that he had studied singing someplace in Denmark and that one of the back-up singers was his sister.

There wasn't much information, but there were pictures. Hundreds of them. Most of them taken by fans, some professionally shot in between. And an unforgettable spread of pictures Castiel's sister had taken as Castiel prepared back-stage - bare chested, hair messy, an unguarded smile on his face.

Come Saturday night and the Eurovision finals, Dean was pumped in a way he hadn't been in years. No matter how it went, he'd at least get to see Castiel sing tonight. But Dean still rooted for him, make no mistake. He’d never been so invested in this competition before.

Castiel didn't win. Or rather, Poland didn't, and Dean tried not to be too disappointed. He resolved to put Castiel out of his mind. Allowing himself to obsess over someone unattainable wouldn't do his already lacklustre love life any favours.

All right, so maybe he occasionally looked up Castiel’s live performances on YouTube. Maybe he sometimes went through Google image search, and maybe he spent a little too much time staring at a particular picture of Castiel in an open shirt, grinning shyly at the photographer. Maybe he sometimes thought about Castiel when he was alone at home, or in the Underground on his way to work, or when sitting at the pub, ostensibly listening to Sam talk about his day.

Maybe he was still just a little bit in love with Castiel. Enough so that when he saw the announcement that Castiel would be coming to London to perform in a few clubs around the city, he thought for one second that he might honestly faint.

He bought a ticket to see Castiel that Sunday. And then, because he was a giant, pathetic dork, he looked up and practiced how to tell Castiel “you have a beautiful voice” in Polish.

Yeah. Like he said, pathetic.

The concert was amazing. It was a low-key affair at a small basement club, with only a few dozen people in attendance. Castiel played some original songs, as well as a stripped-down version of his Eurovision song, which he introduced with a sardonic, self-depreciating smile.

Why the hell had Dean ever even tried to convince himself he wasn’t in love with this man?

Castiel finished his set to thundering applause and took an awkward bow, before exiting the stage. He took a seat by the bar, and was immediately flocked by people. Dean sighed, dismayed, and took a sip of his beer. He could wait until the crowd around Castiel thinned out a bit.

But it didn't thin, not even a little bit. Dean considered going over there anyway, but he didn't want to be just one voice in a crowd to Castiel. Better not to say anything at all.

What had he been expecting to happen, anyway? That he'd say a single sentence to Castiel in garbled Polish and Castiel would fall in love with him?

Dean chugged the rest of his beer and headed out back. He'd technically quit smoking a while ago but he still carried a half-empty pack out of habit. He'd feel shitty about it in the morning but right now, he really needed a cigarette.

He leaned against the wall, and rummaged through his pocket for a cigarette and his lighter. The pack he kept on him was getting kind of beat up and the cigarettes themselves looked kind of limp. Not exactly appetizing, but any port in a storm.

"Could you spare a light?"

Dean's head snapped up, his heart already speeding at the sound of that voice, even before he spotted its owner.

Castiel tilted his head at him in greeting, a quizzical expression on his face and an unlit cigarette hanging from his mouth. "Well?"

"Should you be smoking?" Dean blurted, to his immediate horror and mortification.

"Probably not," Castiel admitted, grinning slightly. At least he didn't look too upset by Dean's stupid comment. "It is a vice I rarely indulge but something about the air in London makes me crave nicotine."

His voice was somehow even more beautiful when not filtered through a microphone, his subtle accent all that more noticeable.

"So could I have a light?"

Dean startled, and laughed nervously. "Uh, yeah, of course."

He lit his Zippo and Castiel leaned over to light his cigarette. For one moment, Dean could feel his breath on his hand, and he bit back a whimper.

"You were really good," he said instead. "In there, I mean. Singing."

What was the matter with him?

"Thank you," Castiel said.

Dean drew a deep breath, then muttered, "Masz piękny głos "

Castiel looked confused. "What?"

"Masz piękny głos " Dean repeated, a little bit louder.

"Oh." Castiel smiled. "What is your name?"

"Dean."

"Dziękuję, Dean."

"Huh?"

Castiel laughed. "Thank you, Dean."

"No, um, problem." Dean shrugged, trying to ignore the growing heat in his face.

"You know," Castiel said conversationally, "I am in London for another couple of weeks. I would love to have some company from a native. Someone who would show me around."

His voice was almost teasing. No, not teasing. Flirtatious.

Was Castiel flirting with him?"

"Would you be willing?" Castiel's eyes raked over Dean's body, lingering pointedly on his lips, before meeting his eyes again.

Okay, so. Definitely flirting.

"Uh..." _Say yes, you moron_. "Sure. Yeah, whatever."

Castiel grinned and reached into his pocket. He handed Dean a small slip of paper. "My number. You will call?"

Dean nodded, not trusting himself to speak and not sound like an idiot.

"I should get going." Castiel took a long drag of his cigarette, before putting it out on the wall. "See you soon, Dean."

He slid past Dean, brushing against him in a way that could not be accidental. Dean stared after him, then looked down at the card in his hand.

"His name is  _Jimmy?"_

**Author's Note:**

> Masz piękny głos – You have a beautiful voice  
> Dziękuję – Thank you
> 
> (In case it wasn't obvious enough)


End file.
